I Know You Care
by fakeditfromthewordgo
Summary: '"What's the matter, princess, afraid you'll get dirty?"' Dean/Jo fluffy one-shot.


**A/N: I'd imagine this was set in the year after Sam jumped into the cage, and Ellen worries herself awake every night. Title from Ellie Goulding's new album, because I could think of nothing better.**

"...are you sure this is the only place?" Dean looked dubiously at the tiny, half broken-down building that masqueraded as a hotel.

Jo smirked at him. "What's the matter, princess, afraid you'll get dirty?"

Scowling, Dean stalked off towards the entrance in response, and smiling, Jo followed, fingers continuously twirling her knife around as she did.

"Twin room," Dean said gruffly to the old man at the desk, who nodded tiredly, and started scribbling something down.

"_Please_," Jo added pointedly, having swiftly pocketed her knife, answering Dean's exaggerated eye roll with a sharp elbow to the gut. They glared at each other as the man finished with a solid full stop, and only broke their eye contact when he cleared his throat loudly.

"There's-"

Dean held up a hand. "We're exhausted. Please, skip the deposit bullshit." He slid a fifty-dollar note across the counter, and the man looked at Jo, his expression saying he didn't know what quite to make of the situation.

"I'm sorry," Jo said gently, stomping on Dean's foot at the sound of his loud sigh. "But we really are tired. Could we just have the keys, please?"

After a second's pause, the man just shrugged, and pushed the keys unceremoniously across the table. Jo thanked him profusely, while Dean grabbed them, and started stomping off.

When he'd deliberately fumbled with the lock loudly for a good five minutes, he stopped stock-still in the doorway. After a few seconds, Jo tapped him on the shoulder.

"There's this new thing, yeah? It's called _moving_."

"Shut up," Dean said, but he did move to the side. Jo stepped into the room - if it could be called that. It was more of a cupboard, with one just-about double bed crammed into the centre of it. Both of them looked at the bed, then at each other.

Then, simultaneously: "I'll sleep on the floor."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're exhausted," Jo argued.

"You're a girl, this is how it works," Dean countered.

Jo gasped dramatically. "Oh sorry, I forgot we're in the 15th century."

"You are impossible, you know that?"

Both of them took a second, and realised at the same time how pointless this argument was. They'd been working a case together over the past few days, and sleep had been a few minutes here and there, if they were lucky. Their relationship was sarcastic and biting at the best of times, and when they were both half-asleep, it turned into fiery arguments and bruises.

Not to say that they didn't like each other - both of them were fiercely loyal, and neither of them would change their partnership for the world. It was just the way it worked: Dean knew that Jo could kick his ass, and Jo respected that he'd kick hers right back. It wasn't an easy relationship, but it was a worthwhile one.

"Look, we're both tired," Jo eventually said, a yawn punctuating her statement, "and there are two sides to that bed." She shrugged, and started pulling her jacket off.

Dean considered for a moment, before tugging his own hoodie off. "You keep to yours, I'll keep to mine, sweetheart."

Jo laughed. "Oh, please. You flatter yourself."

Shirt discarded, Dean flexed his muscles. "I'm hardly flat."

"Oh, my God," Jo pretended to avert her eyes. "Self-respect. Gain some."

Both of them laughed, before awkwardly regarding the bed from their respective side. Berating herself for even stopping for a second, Jo clambered inelegantly under the covers, and was quickly joined by Dean.

Stiffly, they manoeuvred themselves until they were lying uncomfortably on their backs, with their arms by their sides. Despite the last year of working together, this was brand-new territory for both of them, and neither of them knew quite what to do with themselves.

"Hey," Dean said quietly, after a couple of minutes of silence. "You awake?"

Voice cracking with sleep, Jo replied, "barely." Her eyes were almost shut, and she shifted on her side to face Dean subconsciously. Dean couldn't help but smile, and brush her wayward hair back from her face with the back of his hand, knowing she would barely feel it, let alone remember it in the morning.

"I just wanted to say," he continued softly, "you were good, the past couple of days, you know."

The corners of Jo's mouth turned up slightly, and Dean was struck with the bizarre urge to kiss them. "You too, darlin'."

Carefully, Dean moved an arm around her, making sure she didn't notice. Little did he know, even on the brink of sleep, Jo was hyper-aware of every place his arm brushed her back.

"We make a good team," Dean replied to her mockery of him. Jo could hear the smile in his voice, but her eyelids were too heavy for her to look up and see it. She liked his smile.

"We argue too much." It was hardly a serious statement, but Dean frowned a little bit, before relaxing again.

"You argue too much," he said lightly, and she giggled.

She shifted in his arms slightly, scratching at her face, and Dean took the opportunity to move slightly closer to her. He'd be lying if he said he didn't have feelings for Jo, but he'd never tell her. He couldn't do that to her, or their hunting relationship - they were stronger this way. Moments like these were one in a million, stolen pieces of happiness in a prolonged hell of demons, ghosts and spirits.

"I..." she started to reply, but trailed off in another yawn, and nuzzled her face into Dean's chest, her arms snaking around his back as she pulled him to her.

Dean waited until her breath was slow and heavy before pressing his face to her hair, and whispering, "Love you.


End file.
